


stand upon the threshold of the new

by RingThroughSpace



Series: happily ever after [1]
Category: Enchanted Forest Chronicles - Patricia Wrede
Genre: Depression, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RingThroughSpace/pseuds/RingThroughSpace
Summary: In which a ceremony occurs, decisions are made, and a future remains undecided.Or: Ceremony has never stood well with Cimorene. Sixteen years hasn't made it any better.
Relationships: Cimorene & Kazul (Enchanted Forest), Cimorene/Mendanbar
Series: happily ever after [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937440
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	stand upon the threshold of the new

It wasn't day yet, but it was still shaping out to be a bad one.

"Pst." 

Cimorene opened her eyes groggily. It was still dark, the room lit only by moonlight streaming in through the window. Beside her, Mendanbar was snoring gently. She rolled over on the surprisingly soft mattress _(how could she ever have been used to this?)_ and closed her eyes when it came again.

"Pst. Queen."

"Hm?" Even when Daystar was a baby, Cimorene had not been good about waking up in the middle of the night. It wasn't any better now.

"Queen," the gargoyle repeated. "Call for you."

"A call?" Cimorene rubbed her eyes wearily. "At this time of night?"

"It's a king," the gargoyle said in a tone of disinterest. "He says it's urgent."

 _Urgent._ They would have a slew of royal visitors tomorrow. Perhaps it was from one of them? She flung on a dressing gown and stumbled to the table in the next room where they kept the magic mirror.

"Mirror, mirror-" she began, then paused. _How did it go?_ She'd known this, once.

Fortunately, the mirror seemed to understand her intentions, because it switched at once to an image of a paunchy man approaching middle age. His robes seemed slightly too small for him. _Tomias._ Her second eldest sister's husband.

"Queen Cimorene," Tomias intoned formally. The dawn light shown in through the window behind him, and a few birds chirped. "Let me be the first to congratulate you-" He stopped, suddenly taking in her appearance. "Is everything all right?"

"Quite," Cimorene snapped. "Hasn't Tiffany reminded you about the time change?" Tiffany had shaped out to be a relatively sensible woman, all things considered. It almost made up for her disaster of a husband.

"She has," Tomias said, a bit bashfully. "But custom has it that I congratulate you at dawn."

"At _my_ dawn," Cimorene corrected him. It really was too early to be polite. "Not yours."

"Well, how about I call you back-"

"No," Cimorene said, in no uncertain terms. "You will not call me back later."

"In that case," Tomias said, puffing himself up, "let me congratulate you on your son's coming of age. You must be very proud to have your firstborn officially recognized as a Prince Regent. The Kingdom of Eventide would like to extend its greatest wishes to the Enchanted Forest, and should our families ever have the joy of uniting, we would welcome it with pleasure."

 _You would like to arrange a marriage,_ Cimorene thought. Her only son - one who had been claimed even before most of the surrounding kingdoms had even heard of his existence - must have been a disappointment to many.

"Thank you," Cimorene said stiffly. "Perhaps we will do that, should circumstances change." Then she shut down the mirror and went back to bed.

***

The next time she opened her eyes, there was daylight streaming through the windows and the sounds of scraping coming from the fireplace.

Cimorene grumbled and rolled over in the bed, pushing the covers away.

"My queen!" someone squeaked. Cimorene opened her eyes to see a young girl with ashes smudged on her dress. "Forgive me for waking you!"

"No need," Cimorene said. She really ought to have been up sooner. She would have to hurry to prepare herself before the ceremony. "Please send in Esmirelda to help with a bath." She yawned. She was still groggy. "And tea. Ask her to bring lots of tea."

She rolled out of bed for a second time that day and immediately stubbed her toe on the tiles. It was that kind of day.

***

It didn't get any better. Breakfast was hasty, a piece of toast, eaten as Esmirelda combed and styled her hair. She had just reached for her tea when Willin came rushing in the door.

"My Queen," he said, in a tone of great significance. "The guests are arriving. You need to be out to greet them formally."

"It will have to wait," Cimorene told Willin sharply. "They can mingle in the entry hall until then."

"But, my Queen, it simply -"

"- won't do," Cimorene completed, with exhaustion. _Everyone keeps using that phrase._ She'd spent sixteen years freed of it. "I'm well aware of that. Nevertheless, it will have to."

Willin ran out of the room, and Esmirelda continued to style her hair. "Turn your face this way," she told her. "I need to apply powder to your nose."

Cimorene sighed, took a sip of too-hot tea, and immediately burnt her tongue.

***

"Your Highness," Willin said in formal tones twenty minutes later. "May I present to you the Duke and Duchess of Gingerhall."

Cimorene bowed her head slightly - _not too deep,_ she remembered - and then curtsied. "I am pleased to meet you both," she said. When she looked up, they were still waiting. _Is there more?_ "I am glad to welcome you to our palace," she added. The Duke's expression was confused, but the Duchess's was the frozen face of a woman tolerating a child whose etiquette was not quite up to par. "Please, enjoy the ceremony," she said finally, her cheeks burning, and then turned to the next couple.

The greeting seemed to last forever. Afterwards, Esmirelda approached her. "'The Enchanted Forest greets you and wishes you joy,'" she hissed.

The words seemed familiar, and she suddenly remembered saying them eighteen years ago, during a formal visit from the Viscount of Burgundy. "It's been so long," she said without thinking. "Was it that bad?"

"It's nothing that people won't forget with time," Esmirelda said breezily. "I should have refreshed you. You've spent so long out of touch." She shook her head, her voice soft with sympathy. "It must have been so hard for you."

A few weeks ago, she'd been puttering around in a cottage, wearing a sturdy woolen dress and a sensible braid. A few weeks ago, she had spent her days with Daystar and the occasional visit from Morwen's cats. _Sixteen years._

It hadn't been all bad. She'd missed Mendanbar desparately. But she had spent the better part of two decades going about her day without particular ceremony, and now, as the Queen of the Enchanted Forest, she was expected to set an example.

She tightened her lips. "You'll have to remind me what to say, in that case. I don't want to embarass us any further."

Esmirelda nodded. "At the start of the ceremony, you need to greet the guests...."

***

Daystar's official ceremony was a success, at least. It needed to be. Three hours in the hot sun in formal robes, sweating as a group of overly dressed men gave silly speeches and endowed him with a crown and jewelry. The Cauldron of Plenty had been late to arrive, so then there had been another hour spent mingling in the crowd making small talk. ("Did you hear about Brigitta's daughter?" the Duchess of Imiria had said to her with a laugh. Her face changed suddenly then. "Oh, of course you wouldn't have! So many years spent in that cottage." Her tone was sympathetic, and that made it worse.)

"We have a ceremony to finish, my lady," Willin said firmly, as Cimorene was about to sit down at the table. "You need to thank the guests for coming."

Cimorene's throat went dry. "What?" She desparately wanted a cup of wine.

"You need to thank them. Generally." He looked confused, and she wanted to shake him. _What am I supposed to say? Tell me._

Dismissing ceremony was all good and well when she was twenty, but she needed to make sure this went well. She needed to ensure Daystar's investiture was acknowledged by everyone, even the wizards. She needed to -

She needed to _think_ , and none of that would be helped by dwelling on what she was doing wrong. Mendanbar, beside her, squeezed her hand sympathetically. "You're doing fine," he whispered. It was supposed to reassure her. It didn't. He'd never have said that if it wasn't clear she was flustered.

"I would like to thank you all," she began. It had been so many years since she'd spoken formally to a crowd.

****

It was Kazul who found her the next evening, curled up in the rock grotto in the formal garden. "Cimorene?" the King of the Dragons asked, pushing her head into the nook. Kazul was wearing a crown, and for a moment all Cimorene could do was try to remember the proper form of address. _Is it 'my Lord' or 'my Lady'?_ The panic must have shown on her face, because Kazul said gently, "What's wrong?"

To her disgust and utter amazement, Cimorene found herself bursting into tears. "It's too much," she managed finally, sniffing. She went to wipe tears from her cheeks, but the fur-lined cuffs of her second best robe were too nice to ruin.

"Here," Kazul said. Somehow, the dragon was holding a handkerchief. Cimorene blew her nose and wiped her face. "Why don't you tell me what's going on?" Kazul asked.

"Everything is so formal," Cimorene managed finally. "It was so _simple_ back in the cottage and so quiet. And Mendanbar is - Mendanbar, but I'm not _me_ , and-"

"Cimorene?" came a voice from the fountain. Cimorene froze. It was Willin. "Your parents -"

"I am having a discussion with the Queen of the Enchanted Forest," Kazul said. Her tone made it clear there would be no argument. "Their Majesties can content themselves with the King for right now."

"Of course," Willin managed. He turned, then began, "If her Majesty the Queen would like-"

"If she would like anything, I am sure she can request it."

"Very well," he said, and turned away.

"I don't know how I used to do this," Cimorene said when he was gone. _I should be good at this,_ she thought. _This is my job._

Kazul, to her credit, didn't seem to judge her. "It's a shock," she said. "Being placed into a royal court is a massive change. When I ascended the throne, I-" She stopped, looking at Cimorene. Sympathy had always made Cimorene cry.

"I have an idea," Kazul said.

***

Two days later, she stood with Mendanbar in their best storeroom, rummaging through a pile of old swords and knick-knacks. Her dress was only slightly formal, and her hair was tied back again in a sensible braid.

"I think it's around here somewhere," Mendanbar said, looking through the shelves. "I know I put it away-" He pushed a lead-capped jar aside. "Here!"

"I'm sorry," Cimorene said, for the hundredth time that day. "I'm sorry for all the fuss I'm causing. I'm sorry for-"

"Nonsense," said Mendanbar. He pulled out the carpet and shook it off. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"I'm the Queen of the Enchanted Forest," Cimorene protested. "And I'm too old to run away from responsibility."

"You're not running away from anything," he said, rerolling the carpet. "The Enchanted Forest managed perfectly well without a Queen for decades. I think it can manage for a bit longer." He thought for a minute, then added a brooch to her satchel. "And if what Kazul said is correct, there's quite a few palace artifacts that wound up in her libraries. It's important that we recover them properly."

 _Important._ Most of them were probably rusting swords and crumbling scrolls. She doubted there were many things that actually mattered.

"You really aren't angry?"

"No," he said. "I'm not. And I won't be angry. Not unless you don't write."

"I'll write," Cimorene said. "And I'll call. And I'll -"

"Never make promises you aren't going to keep," Mendanbar said, and then Cimorene thought she might actually cry. "Now go," he said. "You'll keep Kazul waiting."

 _The Acting Librarian for the King of the Dragons,_ Cimorene thought. It was unusual for a dragon to have a Queen. But she'd never cared for convention.


End file.
